


The Last Summer

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Short One Shot, kinda lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:33:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23790880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A drowsy summer day, warm beneath the sun.
Relationships: Lucifer/Michael (Supernatural)
Kudos: 19





	The Last Summer

The Last Summer

Lucifer’s head was heavy on his lap, cheeks flushed from the sun. Michael was almost certain that if he cupped his hands above his hair the gold of it would reflect into his palm, like with buttercups.

They’d been sat for maybe an hour, maybe longer on the cool grass. He supposed it must be quite a bit longer. The branches of the tree he rested his back against had shaded them both from the sun when they’d arrived. Now his hair was curling at his temples, damp and hot in the direct heat.

Lucifer hummed, and Michael reached for his water bottle. He was careful not to pour too much into Lucifer’s open mouth, pouring some into his own. They’d filled it up on their walk through the woods to reach the meadow, Lucifer crouched by the riverbed, trying to decide if it was safe to drink. It tasted almost sweet, still cool on his throat.

When Michael was done Lucifer sat up, turning around to face him, legs tangled. “You said you’d read.”

Michael gave a non-committal hum.

“ _Please_. I read the last book.”

“Your voice is nicer,” Michael said. Lucifer’s voice was sweetly lyrical when he read, weaving through the words as gracefully as a dancer. Michael’s reading voice was low, monotonous. Lucifer’s voice would sing you to sleep – Michael’s would bore you there.

Lucifer dropped his head on his shoulder, arms snaking around, and Michael breathed in the smell of him. Salty, fresh sweat, the bright smell of the oranges they’d had earlier, the coconut oil he rubbed his face and skin with, the sweet almond oil he soaked his hair in to keep it soft. He ran his fingers through it now, and they slipped through it almost too quickly.

Lucifer lifted his head, stared at him. Being in sunlight did strange things to his ice-blue eyes. “ _Your_ voice is nicer,” he said, and Michael couldn’t tell whether he actually believed it, or whether he was just trying to cheer him up. He didn’t need cheering up. He pressed his lips, still cool from the water, onto his hot cheeks where the blood had risen. Lucifer moved his mouth, and they kissed with eased, practised movements, hands curling at napes of necks and waists and hips. Michael pushed him down, gently, and Lucifer let him, golden hair among the long grass and the high lavender.

He tasted sweet and salty, the honey he’d poured on his toast still present on his tongue, the salt from the butter beneath it. Lucifer’s hands were on his face, tracing his cheekbones, jawline, ears. His own hand was at Lucifer’s hips, resting on the jut of the bone.

Moments like these were rare for them, and so they almost always took an opportunity when it came. But today the sun was heavy on Michael’s back, and so when Lucifer shifted him to lie side-by-side instead, he didn’t complain. Their kiss slowed to drowsy touches, lips and hands sliding over skin damp with sweat. Lucifer’s cheeks were still hot beneath his lips, burning red below his eyes.

The kiss slowed further to a stop, both slightly breathless. Lucifer was the first to shuffle over and sit up, pulling Michael to rest his head on his lap.

“Your parents are away for nearly five more weeks, right?”

Michael hummed, eyes slipping closed. He heard Lucifer struggle getting the book out of his bag. He dropped it onto the grass next to Michael, where it landed with a plop.

“If we come back here every day, read one part every day, it’ll be done way before your parents are back.”

Michael groaned, opening his eyes again. “But think of all the _other_ things we could be doing with an empty, Luce.”

“We can do that after,” was the smooth reply. “And before, if you like. And-” he dropped his lips to Michael’s ear, and the warm-honey of his voice, still tinged with the slow Georgia drawl he grew up with, sent a pleasurable shiver down Michael’s spine. “-If we stick to our schedule, we’ll have over a _week_ with nothing to do in that big empty house of yours.” He straightened up again, resting a hand on his hot hair and weaving his fingers through, nails lightly touching the scalp. “I’m sure my mother would believe me if I said I was going on a road-trip with some friends. And if she believes me, my father will, too.”

Michael had met Lucifer’s parents. He had had to stand in their room once, guardedly, while Lucifer had rooted around cursing, looking for a book his father had borrowed. He’d seen the well-ironed linen dresses, cotton bedspread, the expensive perfumes, the thin lipstick brush she used to paint a perfect mauve smile. His parents seemed like an old upper-middle class family that had been kept in a freezer since the 1920s. No doubt they’d be all too willing to believe him if he spun some tale about a storybook road-trip with friends.

“A whole week,” Michael whispered, smiling up at him. He reached to rest a hand on his cheek, and Lucifer kissed his wrist.

“If we finish this, yes.”

Michael opened the book with considerable effort, resting it on his chest as he began to read. “ _Sing, goddess, of the rage of Peleus’s son Achilles, and the pains and devastations it wrought onto the Achaeans, throwing their souls to Hades, leaving their bodies to the dogs and the birds…_ ”

He felt Lucifer relax back into the tree, and his voice developed a certain cadence. Lucifer’s fingers stroked through his hair, dragging along the scalp, and he felt as though he could easily slip off to sleep under the summer sun. He read instead, Lucifer’s sighs mixing with the humming of the bees.


End file.
